


The Thoughts We Try to Deny

by queenofquiet17



Series: This Sole Desire [2]
Category: Will & Grace
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, Inspired by 10x08, Lesbian Sex, Limousine Sex, Smut, Why have one "Anchor Away" fic when you can have two, Will & Grace Revival, strip club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofquiet17/pseuds/queenofquiet17
Summary: “What the bloody hell is she doing?!” she shouted.Karen smirked as she whipped her attention back to the task at hand. “Someone’s got to pick up the slack around here, honey,” she quipped. “You’re sure as hell not working it up there.”“At least do something then, Patty!” Lorraine called out to the stage.Yeah, Grace. Do something. Anything. Take something off, spin around the stage, grab onto the pole. Toss your hair. Slide your hands down your body. Tease every single person in that room. Show Lorraine how it should be done. Show her how it should never be done. Show Karen why she should keep her eyes on you. Show her you’re full of surprises.Just show her. No one needs to know which her’s attention you really care about.When Karen came up with her plan to steal Lorraine's photos of her affair with Stan, she knew Grace would make a good distraction. She just didn't realize how good of a distraction. Inspired by the plot of 10x08, "Anchor Away."





	1. Like a Long Forgotten Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Before "Anchor Away" aired, my [Bookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface) and I looked at the synopsis and immediately thought it would make good fic fodder. And then came her text: "Like imagine the hijinks of Karen forcing Grace onstage as a diversion and then it becomes a DIVERSION." Of course, once we actually saw the episode, it didn't really allow for that. But it was too good of an idea to pass up, and I did it anyway, in addition to the fic I wrote as a direct response to the episode. So Bookworm, this fic is quite literally all your fault. There is no way this would have existed without you, and I thank you so much <3 Also, thanks as always to [Kim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimmieRocks/pseuds/crinkle-eyed-boo) and Shannon for your shouts and flails. I love you all.
> 
> The song Grace dances to is ["It Could Be Sweet"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1A4cgPSGZ8) by Portishead. Some of the lyrics are used in italics. Otherwise, the words are my own.

“Karen, there is no way this is going to work.”

“Oh, would you relax? I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

Grace threw a wide-eyed look at her assistant before quickly realizing that any attempts at floating a more rational plan would be shot down before she could even get a word out. _Let’s just wait until the end of her shift. Let’s talk to her like the adults we are. Let’s appeal to her sense of sisterhood. We can do this. It’ll be okay._ She had it in her head the entire drive from her apartment to the club, swearing to herself that she would intervene before it was too late. Because she knew it was a knee-jerk reaction to learning that Stan had photographic evidence of Karen’s affair with Malcolm that could cheat her out of the alimony she deserved _(how_ he got those photos, she’ll never fully understand, but it didn’t surprise her in the slightest that he was so eager to play dirty). She knew Karen would want to fight fire with fire, no matter how badly it would burn her. She knew Karen was set on turning Stanley Walker into dust. And if she had to be honest, she wanted to turn him into dust, too. She just thought there was a better way to do it than ambushing Lorraine Finster in the middle of her routine at Suckingham Palace for pictures of whatever the hell it was she managed to do with Stan in the time they were together--Grace couldn’t picture it, and was certain she didn’t want to--so Karen could defend herself in her divorce proceedings.

But when Karen got an idea like this in her head, there was no stopping her. And Lorraine wasn’t the most rational person in the world to begin with. And now that they were here--in a strip club with a disgusting name amidst drunken, leering men and beat-driven music that was clearly trying way too hard to be sexy--she knew she was about to be thrown head first into disaster without being able to plead her case for a calmer (saner?) plan.

Although, if Karen’s idea really _did_ work, it would be pretty great to know she had a hand in taking Stan down like that. The man was acting like he was a saint when he had no right to claim any such thing. In the time Grace had known Karen, he built up a hefty résumé of lies and infidelity, of crime and faking his own death, and she couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to try to destroy his ex-wife when it had taken his ex-wife all she had to try to put all of his bullshit behind her for two decades. She knew Karen hadn’t had it easy for the better part of her life, and she knew it made her walls a little bit higher, turned pretending she was fine into a reflex. But this divorce had made pretending seem impossible. And more than anything, Grace wanted to rip Stan apart, if it meant Karen could stop carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She just couldn’t stand seeing Karen look so defeated, not when she had spent so many years admiring the woman’s resilience. So if she was the one the dark haired woman trusted to be in her corner, she would wear that title with pride. And she would do whatever she needed to do.

Even if she had zero faith in Karen’s master plan.

“Look, it won’t be that difficult,” Karen stated over the music in an attempt to reassure the redhead. “I already told you how this is going to go. She’ll see me, we’ll get into it like we always do, and once I figure out where she’s keeping those pictures, you get up on the stage and distract her while I get what we came here for. Easy-squeezie.”

Grace watched Lorraine for a moment, dancing up there with a confidence she knew she could never carry, and immediately felt her nerves kick into overdrive. As much as she wanted to help Karen, she also wanted to keep her ego in one piece. “Karen, I don’t think I’m going to be able to move like that,” she said. “They’re going to boo me off the second the music starts.”

“Honey, I said we needed a distraction. I didn’t say we needed a _good_ distraction.”

“Hey!” Grace’s mouth dropped to the floor in offense before she saw the smirk playing across her assistant’s lips. After twenty years, she really should be able to spot one of Karen’s jokes from a mile away, but there was still something about the way they came so easily to her that gave her pause. There was something inside her that wanted Karen to believe she could pull off her part of this in a way that wouldn’t embarrass them both. She gave the dark haired woman a little smile before she sighed. “You know, this could all be for nothing. We don’t even know that she _has_ pictures like that.”

“Gracie...give me one reason to think that she doesn’t.”

Karen couldn’t help but find the designer’s silence just a little bit satisfying.

Grace fixed her gaze back on Lorraine’s routine, taking a fortifying breath as she watched what Karen was expecting her to do. But Karen couldn’t keep her eyes off of Grace. She knew this wasn’t even remotely in the realm of the redhead’s comfort zone; when she put a voice to her plan at the apartment, she saw the way Grace wore that deer in the headlights look, especially after explaining how Grace would play arguably the most important part. But Grace never said no, never said she didn’t want to go through with it. If she had, Karen would have dropped it immediately; as much as she liked seeing how elastic her boss’s boundaries really were, she cared about her far too much to push her off the edge. But something about the way Grace was going along with this began to fill the void that started to grow the second she was handed those divorce papers. There was no way the redhead would let her do this alone, no matter how crazy this turned out to be.

She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had so willingly stepped up to the plate like that. But Grace was there. Grace was always there, without fail, without question, going far beyond the professional relationship that--if Karen was being honest--was never all that professional in the first place.

Funny how the one you were meant to have the least emotional connection to was the one who cared about you the most.

Karen snapped back into reality when she felt Grace nudge her arm. The music had stopped, and she saw Lorraine fall out of performance mode the second she looked over in their direction. “Hello, Mother,” Lorraine sneered as she stepped off the stage, narrowing her eyes at Karen. She nodded a greeting in Grace’s direction without caring to get the redhead’s name right. “Patty.”

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed as Karen braced herself for battle. “Lorraine Finster,” the dark haired woman drew out. “Just the depraved lunatic I was looking for.”

 _Shit,_ Grace thought as she glanced at Karen staring down her ex-husband’s mistress. There was no way this was going to end well if _that_ was the opening salvo. She brought her hand to her mouth to try to cover the cracks she felt in her poker face. “Maybe _don’t_ insult the woman you’re about to ask for help,” she muttered under her breath to Karen, as if her assistant wasn’t too laser focused on Lorraine to hear her.

“Well, I should be flattered you came all this way, then, shouldn’t I?” Lorraine asked, unfazed by Karen’s greeting. “Seeing as how you only have to look in the mirror to find one.”

“Why, you lowlife. I have half a mind to...”

Grace watched in awe as Karen launched into her diatribe of insults, pitching one after another at Lorraine with such magnificent ease and confidence, it would have thrown even the biggest stoic off their game. If the redhead didn’t know any better, she would have thought that Karen completely forgot about their mission, that she was so wrapped up in her history with Lorraine that it no longer mattered why they were here in the first place, as long as she was the one who got the last word (and, okay, maybe she _did_ start out thinking that, if she was being completely honest). But she liked to think she knew Karen Walker pretty well. She knew how slyly creative her assistant could get--it was one of the things she loved most about her--and once she realized what was going on, she knew that beneath the expertly crafted jabs was a definite path to victory. Somehow, in between her razor sharp quips, Karen was able to discover whether pictures of Stan and Lorraine existed (they did), whether or not Lorraine still had them (she did), and whether or not she’d be willing to hand them over (“Are you mad? What makes you think I’d help _you?”)._ And just when Karen had exhausted the last bit of Lorraine’s patience, her nemesis finally gave up the goods.

“Forget it! You’re not getting your hands anywhere near my phone!”

Bingo.

Grace could feel the spark of light in Karen’s eyes become blinding, radiating off of her in the most brilliant way as the dark haired woman tried to distract Lorraine with a few pleas for sisterhood--”We’re more alike than you think. Wouldn’t it be great to take him down a peg?” Blah blah blah--while covertly running her eyes up and down Lorraine’s body, searching for any possible hiding spot for a stripper’s cell phone. Before she knew it, Grace’s gaze started following a similar path, tilting her head the slightest touch to the left as though that kind of indistinguishable shift could help her. What made them think she would keep it on her while she was working, anyway? Wouldn’t it just get in the way? And even if it didn’t, Grace did not want to know where Lorraine had to stash it. Maybe there was another way to stick it to Stan. Grace found it hard to believe that Lorraine was the only one he had an affair with during the course of his marriage; she would never say that to Karen, but she could tell Karen thought it, too. Maybe they could get proof from someone else without having to jump through gross hoops for something that probably wasn’t even within reach to begin with.

But then her eyes fell to Lorraine’s thigh and the phone that was held precariously underneath a flimsy circle of lace and elastic. And then her eyes grew a little wider.

The redhead tried to tamp down her gasp of discovery as she nudged Karen’s arm. “It’s in her garter,” she mumbled excitedly, basking in her accomplishment. She saw Karen’s smile of acknowledgement and felt her heart swell with it. But soon enough, she felt Karen start to nudge back, gentle at first before becoming more and more insistent, pushing her from her place inch by inch until the redhead realized she was being guided towards the stage. Shit. Not now. She didn’t have any time to prepare herself. Karen knew how clumsy she could be, how could she expect Grace to go up there and just wing it? “What are you doing?” Grace whispered frantically, knowing full well what the answer was but desperately trying to buy herself one more moment before the inevitable.

But Karen wouldn’t let up. “It’s showtime, honey,” she whispered back before giving Grace one final nudge.

Grace stumbled up the steps to the stage, looking back at Karen for some sort of guidance. But the dark haired woman had her hands full trying to divert Lorraine’s attention until the last possible second, and she knew she was on her own. She could hear the hoots and hollers of the men surrounding the stage before the music switched over, and had to keep herself from outwardly cringing at the sound. Before long, a new song started playing through the club--one that was a vast improvement from the cheap porno music that came before it, one with a more sensual beat that she could move to, one that she was surprised to realize she knew--and realized she could no longer just stand there doing nothing. She took a breath to steady herself.

_Come on, Grace. You can do this. Just focus on Karen, and you’ll be fine._

As if she heard her boss’s internal pep talk, Karen stole a glance at Grace and gave her a quick wink. _Go for it,_ she mouthed with a smile, swaying her body to the beat for a second in encouragement before Lorraine could notice what she was doing. Grace had never been able to pinpoint exactly what it was about Karen Walker that made her feel so safe--the woman’s build-up seemed to be equal parts gin, impulse, and shameless confidence--but in that moment, watching the way the dark haired woman moved her hips and let the shine of her smile fill her eyes put her at ease in a way nothing else ever could. It made some of that shameless confidence rub off on her. It made her believe that she could be good enough on this stage to keep Karen’s eyes on her.

It was the complete opposite of the point, and she wasn’t entirely sure why it was the only thought floating in her mind in that moment. But while she knew it was Lorraine’s gaze she needed to hold while she was up here, it was Karen’s she _wanted_ to hold.

And if Karen was being completely honest, she wanted to keep looking. If anyone asked, she could blame it on wanting to see if Grace would falter; maybe it wasn’t exactly the outcome they were hoping for, but it was a distinct possibility given Grace’s track record with gravity, and it would be a distraction regardless. But deep down, Karen knew that wasn’t the reason her eyes were following Grace’s slow walk to the pole. It was the thoughts racing to the forefront of her mind, the ones that were probably her fault for being the one to start testing the boundaries of their friendship in the first place, that kept her glued to her place. The thoughts she would get from time to time, whenever she got a little too close to the redhead. The thoughts she always denied herself, brushing them away like they were of no concern. The thoughts she told herself she was good at forgetting. The thoughts that always ended up coming back in full force anyway.

The thoughts that made it difficult to concentrate on whatever the hell it was Lorraine was talking about right now.

“Look, it’s not like I have any affection for the old bastard anymore, but I’m not...” Lorraine trailed off when she realized she didn’t have Karen’s attention and followed her gaze up to the redhead tugging awkwardly at the zipper of her dress in front of the entire club. “What the bloody hell is she doing?!” she shouted.

Karen smirked as she whipped her attention back to the task at hand. _“Someone’s_ got to pick up the slack around here, honey,” she quipped. _“You’re_ sure as hell not working it up there.”

“At least _do_ something then, Patty!” Lorraine called out to the stage.

Yeah, Grace. Do something. Anything. Take something off, spin around the stage, grab onto the pole. Toss your hair. Slide your hands down your body. Tease every single person in that room. Show Lorraine how it should be done. Show her how it should never be done. Show Karen why she should keep her eyes on you. Show her you’re full of surprises.

Just show her. No one needs to know which her’s attention you really care about.

Grace closed her eyes for a moment to let the smooth, sensuous beat take her over. She could feel herself start to sway in time to the rhythm, feel herself want to slip her dress off and start to work every inch of this place. She let a smirk come to play across her face and opened her eyes. When she finally started to move, Karen shifted her gaze back to Lorraine, waiting for the right moment to go in for the kill. She watched as Lorraine’s brow started to furrow and her features started to crinkle more and more into a mixture of fascination and confusion, and she knew Grace almost had her. If she could just be sure that Lorraine’s focus was solely on the redhead and whatever she was doing to elicit that sort of glorious reaction, she could make her move.

“No, not like that! You’ve got to wrap your leg around the pole!” That was it; Lorraine was invested. Karen had to keep herself from laughing at the sound of Lorraine yelling tips in Grace’s direction as she maneuvered her way into Lorraine’s blind spot and started slowly making her way down to garter level. She was so tempted to look up from the phone and sneak a quick peek at the action, just to see what she was missing. She wanted to see Grace’s version of sexy, if it looked as clumsily confident as she gathered it did from Lorraine’s nearly pained expressions. But clumsily confident stripping wasn’t going to win her any alimony. So she set her sights on Lorraine’s phone, her fingers brushing against its screen as Lorraine jumped in excitement and nearly made Karen lose her balance completely as she avoided being caught.

“There you go! Now you’re getting it!”

There were already a lot of things about this night that were hard to believe, but Karen knew that when she would think back on all of this somewhere down the line, she would be convinced she made up the part about Lorraine Finster shouting her encouragement and support while Grace Adler stripped for New York’s worst.

Karen waited for Lorraine to settle back into her stance before reaching for the phone again. Slowly, she slid it from the garter’s questionable hold and felt the weight of it against her palm. Everything she needed to secure her future rested in her hands. She wasn’t quite sure what she should be feeling about it. She wasn’t even quite sure what she _was_ feeling about it. She just knew she didn’t want to think about it. She knew she could use a good distraction right about now.

“Huh. You know, now that she’s gotten into it, your girlfriend’s not half bad, is she?” Lorraine remarked in surprise just as Karen slid the phone in her pocket and straightened herself up.

The socialite felt a surge of nerves crash into her core, unwilling to recognize why. Since when did they give off the girlfriend vibe? And since when did it have the power to knock her off her game? It was just Grace, after all. Right? “Whaddya talk?” Karen scoffed, trying to brush it off as she began to motion for Grace’s attention, keeping her eyes trained on Lorraine the whole time. She could see the redhead spinning out of the corner of her eye, and maybe it was because of her view, but it looked like Grace was actually starting to nail it. Too bad they’d have to cut her performance short if they wanted to bust out of here. “She’s not my--”

When Karen looked to the stage, she felt the wind get knocked out of her as she saw Grace, stripped down to her bra and panties, following Lorraine’s advice about the pole like she didn’t even need Lorraine’s advice in the first place. Good _lord,_ how did she spend the last twenty years of her life never knowing the redhead could do _that?_ She wasn’t even sure if Grace knew she could do that, but she was acting like it was just another part of her daily routine: wake up, get dressed, strip yourself down again, make your assistant hot and bothered like it’s nothing. And when Grace’s feet finally hit the ground, Karen could see the way she glowed with a sly boldness that the men surrounding the stage probably thought was being fed off of their cheers and catcalls. But that glow got bolder the second Grace saw that Karen was watching her every move. And the redhead couldn’t take her eyes off the stunned woman staring back at her. It thrilled her to know that she did that, to know that she could transfix Karen with a few carefully timed turns of her body. It made her want to know all the ways she could captivate Karen. It made her want to play to find out.

Because as far as Grace was concerned, Karen was the only audience who mattered, the only one who dared to exist; everything and everyone else in that club started to fade away. And she had Karen’s attention now.

So she could _finally_ come alive.

Grace felt herself get a little more liberal with the way her body undulated to the music. She let the sway of her hips keep time with the drum beat of the song, watching the way Karen’s eyes followed them from side to side and letting the hold she had over her assistant go directly to her head. She wanted to be in control of Karen’s view, wanted to feel the fire of her stare over every inch of her body. She dropped her hand to her hip, directly in Karen’s sight line, and hoped it would command the dark haired woman’s gaze to follow its path up her torso, pausing as she took her breast into her hand for a moment before sliding up her neck and tousling her hair. She caught Karen’s eyes with her own and saw a look of unmistakable desire that caused a hitch in her breath.

Holy shit. She was actually turning Karen Walker on.

She couldn’t believe it at first. She had been so used to the endless stream of criticism when it came to her appearance; her curves were barely there, her wardrobe was excruciating, on and on and on for twenty years. It made it so that she never gave any thought to being someone who could attract Karen. Then again, there were all those little moments throughout their friendship, where they would get a little too close and act like it was just a normal thing that friends do. There were the moments when Karen would take off the mask and let Grace inside, just for a moment. There was the look on Karen’s face now, the one that was devouring her, the one that was still there after she had turned her back to dip her body as low to the ground as she could and shake her ass around, the one that she swore to god had deepened by the time she faced Karen again. The one that nearly threw her concentration out the window because it felt so real. Because it _was_ so real. She did that. She made Karen feel things. And as she moved away from the pole, she knew she was going to whatever it took to keep that look in Karen’s eyes.

She knew she was going to play all the cards in her hand.

 _“It could be sweet,”_ Grace mouthed along to the lyrics of the song, her intense stare locked on Karen. _“Like a long forgotten dream.”_ She smirked as she held a beckoning motion close to her chest before letting her hand slide down her body. Her fingers dipped the slightest bit beneath her panties in a tease (for herself or for Karen, she wasn’t exactly sure) before she fell to her knees like she was decimated by her own touch. She lowered herself until her back was against the floor of the stage and turned her head to face Karen. She gave the dark haired woman a little nod before thrusting her hips in the air and swinging them around for a beat. As she lowered them back down to the stage, she saw the way Karen grabbed onto a chair at one of the surrounding tables in order to steady herself, and it made her lips curve into a devious grin. It made her want to take it further. She lay herself flat against the floor of the stage, waiting for that burst of horns in the song to come around again; when it did, she let it highlight the way she arched her back like she had just felt Karen’s touch crash into her skin and destroy her inhibitions.

And that was the moment Karen knew she was completely gone for this girl.

It was incredible, the way Grace erased every other thought in her head by just twisting her body the right way. She didn’t care about Lorraine, and she didn’t care about making a clean getaway from the club. She didn’t care about the phone. She didn’t care about Stan being hell-bent on sending her to the poorhouse. She didn’t care about making sure he lost. In that moment, all Karen cared about was Grace, and all she wanted _\--needed--_ to do was pull the redhead off that stage, take her home and…

 _Fuck,_ what was happening to her? She couldn’t get the thought out of her mind, not in any of the ways she usually could. It sure as hell didn’t help that Grace was writhing on stage in such a wickedly calculated frenzy, it made focusing on anything else impossible. And it sure as hell didn’t help that Grace had a fire in her eyes that made her want to burn. It was that look that made her think about all the things they could do together when they finally got a moment alone.

Because if she didn’t know any better, she’d say Grace looked like she was thinking about those things, too.

Of course, she’d have to get a closer look if she was going to be sure.

Grace saw Karen start to move from her spot, slowly making her way towards the stage like she was in some sort of infatuated trance, and she could feel the thrill of it surging through her body. It made her prop herself up on all fours, moving to the end of the stage to finally meet Karen. She bit down a sly smirk as the dark haired woman reached her, seeing the way Karen leaned over the table connected to the stage so she could slide her hands over Grace’s. The touch launched fireworks throughout the redhead’s body, and she didn’t realize how much she craved the explosion. She wondered if it would happen again if _she_ were the one to touch Karen. She nodded for Karen to move in closer, and as Karen followed, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering long enough to hear Karen sigh over the music and feel the charge of contact fill her.

When she pulled away, Grace felt like she could soar into the night.

 _“But the thoughts we try to deny take a toll upon our lives.”_ Grace was rolling her head from side to side as she lip-synced, leaning in towards Karen so that her chest stuck out as much as it could, catching Karen stealing a peek at what she always used to claim was nonexistent. It nearly made the redhead lose her mind to see Karen backtrack on twenty years of passing jabs so easily. _“We struggle on in depths of pride, tangled up in single minds…”_ And god, wasn’t that the fucking truth? How many times had Karen struggled to keep her distance every time those thoughts started popping up? How many times had she told herself that Grace didn’t feel the same way, that going any further would never end well? How many times did it make her just a little more miserable thinking she could never get what she truly wanted, just to save a little face?

How crazy was it that she seemed to be getting it now?

This couldn’t be just for show anymore, if it was ever just for show to begin with. This wasn’t the way you acted when you were just playing around. That intensely serious look in Grace’s eyes told her that she meant every movement, that she had every intention of making each one count. She basked in the green light as she tried to maneuver herself closer to Grace, falling just short of dropping all pretenses and climbing onto the stage to be with her. Grace’s smile turned the most brilliant shade of devilish as her eyes begged for the dark haired woman, and Karen knew she had to abide. She was so close to tasting the redhead on her tongue; she _needed_ to taste her, needed to feel her, needed her. She moved in a little closer, and a little closer...

But then the music stopped. And those leering men got louder. And suddenly, they both remembered where they were. Suddenly, Grace remembered she had just stripped herself down in front of a room full of people, that her body had more eyes on it than just Karen’s. Suddenly, Karen saw her race to grab her dress from its resting place on the stage and wriggle her way back into it.

Suddenly, the bubble they had been gloriously living in popped, and they were thrust back into the harshness of reality.

Well. It was sweet while it lasted.

“Did you get what you needed?” Grace asked when she stepped off the stage, turning her back towards Karen as the dark haired woman mustered the strength to zip the redhead back into her dress, her fingers tripping over the fabric at first as she tried to give herself a moment to recover from everything Grace had done.

The question felt so forward that it rocked Karen to her core when Grace turned around to lock her eyes on her again. “Uh…” she faltered before she could wave away some of the haze surrounding her mind. “Yeah, honey. I sure did.”

It didn’t occur to her that the designer was asking about the phone.

“Then come on...let’s get out of here.”

The way Grace murmured those words to Karen made the dark haired woman weak in the knees. They were tinged with urgency, the kind that made Karen want to find the nearest private space (hell, at this point, it didn’t even have to be that private) and fumble with that pesky zipper on Grace’s dress all over again. The kind that made her wholeheartedly believe that Grace was five seconds away from ripping the buttons off of her top before she even had a chance to fumble with that pesky zipper. The kind that made her want to hear Grace say the words, even though she knew that if she heard them, they would rattle her so much, she’d have to be carried out of here. But it’s not like it would be the worst thing in the world to have Grace whisk her away like that. “And why should we do that?” she asked, amping up the playfulness in her voice as best as she possibly could.

The redhead took a breath and nodded over Karen’s shoulder. “Because I’m pretty sure she’s about to kill us.”

 _Who?_ Karen had completely forgotten the reason they were even there; it seemed ridiculous now that they were standing here for any other purpose than Grace’s performance. She furrowed her brow at the redhead for a moment, racking her brain trying to come up with literally any name that wasn’t the one belonging to the gorgeous woman standing in front of her. Until she heard that British lilt behind her being throttled into the air.

“Hey! Give my phone back, you withered old crone!”

“Oh, shit!” Karen exclaimed as she snapped back into reality. How the hell could she possibly forget about Lorraine? She didn’t turn around to see how angry the woman was; the way Grace’s eyes grew wider and wider told her everything she needed to know. She grabbed onto the redhead’s hand. “We’ve got to go,” she said as she set off in a run, Grace tightening her hold as she rushed to follow. They could hear Lorraine shouting after them until they burst through the front door of the club into the Manhattan night. They saw Karen’s limo parked right where they left it and clamored into the back seat, the dark haired woman banging on the partition to get Driver’s attention.

“Come on! Move it!” Karen yelled.

Grace couldn’t stop staring at the door of the club through the window. “She’s going to catch up to us,” she said with a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“No she won’t. We’ll be fine,” Karen mumbled, although she wasn’t sure if she believed it. She started cursing herself for failing to find a driver who hadn’t looked like he was about to celebrate his hundredth birthday when she hired him twenty years ago; in the time it was taking him to rev the engine, it felt like they could have easily driven to Grace’s apartment and back a few times over. She felt Grace suddenly grab onto her thigh in an effort to pull her attention, and she looked out the redhead’s window to see the door opening, Lorraine peeking out and scanning the street for a moment before her eyes locked on the limo.

They were fucked. They were _so_ fucked. They were…

That unmistakable roar of the limo’s engine drowned out Karen’s thoughts as the car started up and began pulling out of its parking spot, prompting Lorraine to pick up her pace. But as much as she tried to catch up to Karen and Grace, she couldn’t grab onto the door in time; the limo sped up, leaving a frustrated Lorraine in its wake, staring at the getaway in disbelief.

Neither the redhead nor the dark haired woman realized they were holding their breath until they were sure Suckingham Palace was far behind them, and they let out a sigh of relief. They looked at each other, smiling tentatively for a moment before Grace broke out into a grin that lit up the darkness of the night and gave way to the most melodic laughter Karen had ever heard. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she exhaled as she fell back into her seat. “I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”

Karen studied the thrill radiating off of Grace’s features and felt a flutter in her core. “I told you to trust me, honey,” she said, trying her best to hold on to her composure.

“Yeah, well...you sure know how to take a girl on an adventure.”

Karen would have been able to keep herself together if Grace had just left it at that; she would have been able to cook up some kind of response that fit the dynamic they’ve lived in for the last two decades. But then the designer had the nerve to slide in closer, to relax against Karen’s body like it was nothing. She hoped Grace didn’t notice the fortifying breath she took as she braced herself. The thoughts she was usually so good at denying were now screaming for her attention, loud enough to convince her that Grace could hear them, too.

It was crazy, she knew. Of course Grace couldn’t hear what was going on inside her mind. But the air between them was so charged, the redhead had to have noticed. And every time those thoughts got a little louder, Grace’s hand would slide across her thigh, or she would give Karen a little squeeze like she knew exactly what the deal was, like she wanted to pick up where they left off in the club, now that they had a little bit of privacy. And it made Karen want to give in completely, no matter the consequence.

Not that any of those consequences were bad. Because Grace _did_ want to pick up where they left off. She wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Karen with intent, to push it beyond the kisses that punctuated their friendship, those quick goodnight pecks or those moments when she would press her lips against Karen’s to prove one convoluted point or another. She wanted to feel Karen’s hands ride her curves and hear her sigh against her skin. She wanted to press her body against Karen’s and feel the way they fit perfectly together. Because she just knew that they would fit perfectly together. They had to.

She wanted to tell Karen all of this, but the words just wouldn’t come. Whether she didn’t have the voice or didn’t have the nerve, she couldn’t be sure. But she wouldn’t be surprised if it was a little bit of both. All she could think to do was keep her hand on Karen’s thigh, to keep some sort of contact with her that could tide her over.

At least this way, she could try to pass it off as one of those little things that punctuated their friendship.

Karen couldn’t speak either, couldn’t look at Grace without giving herself away. She turned her gaze to the city speeding by outside her window in an effort to calm herself down. But then Grace’s hand moved a little higher up on her thigh, and she felt the dull throbbing between her legs she thought she could ignore become more and more insistent.

She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip. It was going to be a long drive home.


	2. The Fate We Have

“So...what did you think? Was I okay up there?”

The limo was stopped at a red light when Grace was finally able to break the silence with the most loaded question she could have possibly asked. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other in what seemed like an eternity, each of them trying to wrestle with the thoughts bouncing off the walls of their minds. And now that they were free from the threat of Lorraine’s wrath, Karen couldn’t stop playing Grace’s performance over and over again in her head, couldn’t stop thinking about the way everything faded to black except for the redhead tossing her hair and crawling in her direction, demanding her attention. She couldn’t stop thinking about how close she had gotten, how she could swear she felt Grace’s breath brush against her skin as she lip-synced to the song, as she timed her final sigh to match the singer’s, how her lips could have reached Grace’s if she just leaned forward a little bit more before the song ended. She couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly everything around them came back into the light as the song died down and the men’s catcalls picked up, like the spell had been broken, like it was all a dream. And the missed opportunity made her heart sink to her feet. Because if it hadn’t been for Grace’s question, Karen could have eventually convinced herself that it _was_ a dream. They weren’t talking about it, no one would believe it happened if she _did_ talk about it. This night could pass, and they could go back to the way they were before Karen ever concocted this crazy plan.

But Grace dared to ask. She was waiting for an answer.

“Grace, I don’t know if…” Karen trailed off.

“Oh come on, since when are you too shy to give your opinion?” She gave Karen a nudge and a shaky smile, trying to play it off as no big deal, knowing she probably failed. But she needed to say something, anything to break the silence. Maybe trying to force a little levity wasn’t the best move. She just wanted to hear the way Karen’s voice wrapped around a response. She just wanted to push the door open a little bit, to let the light of possibility shine through, to see if it would intrigue the dark haired woman enough to want to know what was on the other side.

Grace had no idea that Karen was dying to know what was on the other side. Karen wanted to break through the door and never look back. She wanted to make up for decades of lost time as they ran towards the future they deserved. She wanted to finally, _finally,_ stop skirting around all of the things that have been staring them down this whole time, waiting for one of them to make a move, waiting for one of them to at least take a step. How hard could it possibly be?

And what better time than now to finally take one?

Just as Grace dared to ask, Karen couldn’t help but dare to be honest. Besides, it wasn’t like she had much to lose.

Only twenty years of friendship.

“Honey...you don’t know what you did to me.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should put a voice to the thought that was aching to get out; she was already toeing a line she never thought they would actually cross. There was always the chance of it scaring Grace off, and then they’d be trapped in the limo on a seemingly endless ride back to 9C. There was always a chance of it getting out, trailing behind a “You are never going to _believe_ what happened to me today” as Grace catches Will up on the otherwise trivial bullet points of her day. There was a chance that Will wouldn’t be able to let her live it down. There was a chance of it changing everything. And not in the way she wanted it to change.

But she saw the way Grace looked at her at the club, on stage dancing like the dark haired woman was the only one watching. And before she could stop herself, her voice wrapped around the words as they spilled out into the electric air.

“You don’t know what I _want_ you to do to me.”

If it backfired, she could just blame it on the high Grace probably assumed she was riding; it wasn’t like it was the craziest thought in the world. It wouldn’t matter if she had never felt more clear-headed in her life than she did in this moment. Just laugh it off and slink back to the Valley of the Dolls where she belongs. No harm, no foul. It never happened.

But Grace leaned in a little closer. Grace bit down on her lip as she failed to control her smirk. Because Grace couldn’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be the only one that could stake her claim to Karen’s focus. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Karen followed her every move, the way Karen inched closer and closer to the stage in a magnetic pull, the way she craved the feeling of Karen’s hands on her body so badly, it took all the restraint she had not to pull the dark haired woman up there with her and guide her touch to where she needed it the most. It turned her on then, to feel that she had the power to set Karen Walker off like that.

It turned her on now, to know that she wasn’t imagining it.

She let her voice sink to its lowest register before she spoke. “So why don’t you tell me? Or better yet…” she murmured as she slid her hand over Karen’s, “why don’t you show me?”

Karen could feel the pulse between her legs grow stronger the second she felt Grace’s touch. “Honey…” she trailed off, knowing that if she kept speaking, she would inevitably say something that would make all of this stop, pulling from the methods of all the other times they came close to doing something before backing away, simply because it was the precedent. She didn’t want backing away to be the reflex anymore. She didn’t want to stop.

She wanted everything Grace could possibly give.

“Come on,” the redhead murmured, the fire in her eyes that first sparked in the club reigniting into an inferno. She started singing in a low, husky voice that sounded nothing like the one Karen was used to hearing as it spilled from her lips, a voice that sent shivers through the dark haired woman’s body. _“It could be sweet...like a long forgotten dream…”_

Karen couldn’t deny herself anymore; in one swift motion, she pulled Grace on top of her, her kiss crashing into the designer’s lips. She raced to unbutton her pants as she felt Grace take her face into her hands, losing her concentration for a moment as the redhead’s tongue swept along hers, coaxing a small moan out from hiding. Grace’s fingers set off sparks as she let them travel the porcelain of Karen’s neck, down to the buttons of her top, tearing through each one with such force, it was a wonder she didn’t rip them off entirely. She let her touch slide up the newly exposed skin of Karen’s torso, pushing the lace of the dark haired woman’s bra up to free her breasts. Scooting back as far as she could (surprisingly far, actually, how big was this limo anyway?), Grace slid Karen’s nipples in between her fingers as she bent down to press her lips against Karen’s stomach. She could hear Karen sigh and feel the way her assistant’s fingers started weaving through her wildfire locks, and started smiling against her skin when she realized she could control the way Karen reacted. With a subtle brush of her fingertip, she could elicit a soft, barely audible sigh, as if Karen was almost soothed by the contact. Give a little pinch, and Karen would become a little more vocal, a choked off “Oh!” or, if she was lucky, a nearly breathless “Gracie” or “Honey.” Keep the pressure on her, and Karen’s moans would get louder and longer, making her throw her head back in unadulterated euphoria. It all thrilled Grace to no end.

She could feel the way Karen’s moans traveled to her clit and hoped to god she lasted long enough for Karen’s touch to be the thing that made her come.

Grace kissed her way down to Karen’s navel and started drawing circles around it with her tongue, basking in Karen’s “Oh my _god”_ for a moment before traveling back up her body. She couldn’t get over how sweet Karen tasted; for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she was imagining it and hoped she wasn’t. It was the taste that truly fueled her. She knew she wouldn’t rest until she had ridden every curve, until she had teased every part of Karen she could, until she made her assistant quake, cry out in a way that might have embarrassed her, if not for the memory of Karen once casually mentioning Driver’s advanced hearing problems (how he hadn’t been fired in the time Grace had known Karen, she didn’t know, but what was the point in questioning it?).

Although, tonight definitely made her a little bolder. She was beginning to think she wouldn’t care if he was listening in through the partition.

“Gracie…” Karen tried to will her voice to hit the air, her concentration on anything that wasn’t Grace’s tongue being shoved aside every time the redhead found another inch of skin she hadn’t yet covered. “You really...want me to show you...what I want?” she finally managed in between the breaths that were becoming more and more rapid by the second, even though this sure as hell felt like what she wanted.

Grace paused and lifted her head to meet Karen’s blissed out gaze. Her eyes shined as she took in the sight. “Show me,” she commanded.

The redhead pressed one hand to the window to steady herself as Karen grabbed onto the wrist of the other, sliding it underneath her panties and gasping in surprise at the touch she initiated. She looked down to find the dark haired woman’s eyes pleading with her, as if there was ever a chance that Grace would hold out on her. God, the way Karen acted like she needed it made Grace weak. To know that it could have been like _this_ every time they pushed the boundaries of their friendship made her long for the ability to go back in time, to stop herself from denying the thoughts that went through her mind every time they had kissed, every time they had brushed up against each other, every time they spent the night alone together with no threat of anyone walking in and spoiling everything. Because those thoughts, she knew now, led to something brilliant, something she couldn’t put into words, something she couldn’t have fully expected if she tried. Something that filled her before it had truly started.

It just seemed cruel to both of them if she didn’t give Karen what she wanted.

Grace drew her finger along Karen’s folds, reveling in the dark haired woman’s “Ohhhh” of rapture before dipping it into her opening. “Jesus, Karen, you’re so wet,” she smirked, and she couldn’t figure out which was better: the discovery itself, or the way Karen could only nod and moan at the statement.

“Well, god, honey,” Karen said when she found her voice again, “it’s not my fault you surprised me with _\--Mmmmm,_ good _lord--_ with those hidden talents of yours back at the--”

Grace cut her assistant off by sliding two fingers inside of her, causing her to cry out in ecstasy. Karen panted over the way the redhead was twisting herself, but it wasn’t until she felt Grace’s thumb start to rub her clit that she arched her back as far as she could and started to cry out. _“Fuck,_ right there,” she moaned, over and over, begging Grace to keep going, until the designer plunged her lips into the dark haired woman’s neck, making her gasp away the chance of forming any sort of coherent response.

It wasn’t until Karen felt the vibrations from Grace’s lips that she realized the redhead was humming the song she had danced to earlier in the night, the melody crashing into Karen’s skin in a way that completely obliterated every last word in her vocabulary, every last thought that wasn’t centered around Grace’s touch. The way Grace moved inside of Karen. The ebb and flow of pressure on Karen’s clit that was somehow taunting the dark haired woman and fulfilling her at the same time. The way Grace made her start to tremble when the motion of her thumb started to dance more rapidly on her clit, and the way that Grace smiled against her neck when she noticed but good _god,_ she never stopped humming, and it made Karen’s trembling turn into a full-on quake. It was unbelievable.

Karen wasn’t sure if it felt this good because it always would have been this good--whether they had taken that girl’s night twenty years ago any further, or if one of them had tried to slide their hand under the other’s skirt when they were caught up in a kiss--or because the wait made everything explode with overwhelming pleasure. She wasn’t sure if she should be wishing they had done this so much sooner, or if she should simply focus on how the wait was worth it (god, it was so worth it). But now that she was here, in the back of this limo with Grace’s touch blissfully roaming every part of her body, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to live without this feeling, without the promise of this feeling.

She was never going to deny herself again.

Grace started to feel Karen tighten up around her fingers, and she pulled away from her assistant’s neck, knowing she had to see the way Karen looked right now. She found Karen’s features gorgeously tangled up in the growing charge overtaking her body, her lips forming a perfect “O” that seemed to amplify her moans. For a fleeting, shining moment, Grace’s gaze met Karen’s, and she was nearly bowled over by how beautiful that shade of hazel looked against the city lights passing them by in the night; she didn’t think anything could top that view. But then Karen shut her eyes and cried out, her body taut underneath Grace as she rode out her orgasm before opening her eyes again in the afterglow. And the way she looked in the afterglow completely proved Grace wrong.

They stayed like this for a minute, Grace hovering over Karen, still inside of her, as the dark haired woman let her breathing even out. Reluctantly, Karen started to fix her bra, never once taking her eyes off of Grace, still a little stunned over all of the ways the redhead surprised her tonight. She wanted to say something, but the silence was too sweet, she didn’t want to ruin it; she wasn’t even sure she could form a proper sentence to begin with. So she watched as Grace pulled out and slid back to her side of the seat. She watched as Grace got the most deliciously devilish look on her face. She watched as Grace slipped her fingers into her mouth, closing her eyes and sighing the second the taste of Karen touched her tongue.

And Karen honestly couldn’t believe she didn’t come again from the sight of it.

It made the socialite fly to the other side of the limo and crash into Grace’s kiss, desperate to know what they tasted like when they mixed together like that. She felt the redhead wrap her arms around her as her kiss probed deeper, as her hands burrowed underneath Grace’s skirt and journeyed up her thighs. She reached the cotton of Grace’s panties and immediately felt the redhead lift her hips slightly, waiting.

“Get rid of them,” Grace whispered. And her wish was Karen’s command.

Karen tossed the panties on to the floor of the limo before her fingers found Grace’s clit. “Jesus, Grace, you’re so wet,” she smirked in a playfully mocking tone, parroting back the designer’s earlier exclamation as she watched the redhead writhe to her touch.

Grace tried to laugh, but it got swallowed up in a moan as she felt Karen’s fingertip come to rest and grew overwhelmed with anticipation. “Well, god, honey,” she quipped once she could find her speech again, mirroring her assistant’s tone, “do something about it.”

Karen could tell it wouldn’t take much, a couple of carefully timed sweeps of her finger along Grace’s clit before she had the redhead riding out the same waves of pleasure that overcame her just a few moments before. And she wanted to make it count. Slowly, she started tracing circles with her fingertip, feeling the hold Grace had on her grow a little tighter. But it wasn’t until she leaned in and dipped her tongue into Grace’s ear that she felt her clutch onto the fabric of her top for dear life, heard her call out her name over and over while she alternated between a sweep of her tongue to Grace’s ear and a sweep of her finger to Grace’s clit. She felt the way Grace’s body had tightened up beneath her and knew she was close, pulling away from her ear just in time for Grace to muffle the cries of her orgasm into Karen’s shoulder. The designer’s body slackened afterwards, but the fistfuls of Karen’s top was still securely in her hands, allowing her to pull her assistant into her as close as she possibly could, plunging her lips into the kiss she couldn’t stop craving.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Grace said breathlessly when she pulled away, with the same wonder and enthusiasm she had when she said it just after their getaway from the club.

Karen couldn’t help but grin. _“I_ can’t believe we didn’t do it sooner,” she said, hoping to god Grace wouldn’t take it as a joke.

The redhead paused to consider it. “Yeah,” she murmured in amazement. “What the hell were we waiting for?”

The way Karen’s breathless laugh filled the limo with so much light made Grace’s heart overflow. This is the way she always wanted to see Karen: enraptured by her touch, rattled by the electric charge in her core, glowing so radiantly in the moments after. This was the Karen that was just for her, the one that she was positive no one else had seen because no one else could take her to this place (there was no way she looked like this for Stan, no way she looked like this for Malcolm, and no way you could convince her otherwise). This was the Karen she needed in her life for the rest of her days. This was the Karen that helped her move the earth.

But if they moved the earth, why was everything around them so still?

Oh. The engine wasn’t running. Of course. That made sense.

But then that would mean...

_Oh._ Fuck. How long had they been parked?

When they finally noticed the limo had come to a stop, they straightened themselves up and took in their surroundings. The trees were no longer speeding by them, the lampposts stayed perfectly still as they shined down on them. For all they knew, Driver could have gotten them here before Karen even had a chance to show Grace what she wanted. Nothing else seemed to matter in the moment. Not much else seemed to matter now. Which is why it felt impossible to accept that their night was over.

Grace leaned over Karen to look out the window, seeing the awning of her building welcoming her back from her journey. “Oh. I guess I’m home,” she said, her words wrapped inside a disappointed sigh.

Karen tried to fix her gaze on Grace’s view, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the redhead stretching across her lap. She wasn’t necessarily complaining. “Is Will up there?” she asked as she started to button herself back up, hoping 9C would be free for them to pick up where they left off here.

“I think so. He’s supposed to be cooking dinner for that douchey news guy tonight.”

Karen deflated for a moment; how dare Wilma suddenly gain a love life during her hour of need? But then the gears of her mind started turning, and she lit up with a new plan. “Well, then let’s go back to my place, honey. Yeah! I can give you the grand tour of the new digs. I think there are a few rooms that could use your touch.” She drew her finger along Grace’s collarbone. “And even if they don’t, I know _I_ could use your touch.” She pulled the designer in, their lips colliding softly, lingering for as long as she possibly could before she needed to hear Grace’s answer. “So whaddya say?” she asked as they pulled away.

Grace was silent at first, studying the dark haired woman for what felt like forever. But then, Karen saw a sly half smile slowly show itself on Grace’s face, watched her as she moved to bang on the partition. “Hey, Driver,” the redhead called out, loud enough for him to hear. “Let’s move out. We’re taking Miss Karen home.” They heard him rev the engine, felt him start to pull the limo out of its parking spot. And Grace looked to Karen with the same wicked flame in her eyes that had fueled them all night, as she let her voice drop back into its lowest register, soft enough for only Karen to hear, for only Karen to keep close to her heart.

“I’m not quite done with her yet.”


End file.
